


Wrangling Rangoon

by WontGetDown



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 4
Genre: Ajay: heir apparent, Dysfunctional Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Ishwari: shut up Mohan, Pagan: regent current, Sabal: greasy and alone, that au where you don't kill Pagan and he doesn't leave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WontGetDown/pseuds/WontGetDown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ajay didn't touch the crab rangoon when Pagan first brought him to the palace, and he never so much as took a bite when he returned and sat down to listen to Pagan's story instead of shooting him in the face (a fate which Pagan would be the first to admit he richly deserved - but then, so did everyone else in a position of power in Kyrat). If it was the last thing he did on the earth, Pagan was going to make damn certain that his stepson learned to enjoy fine cuisine in the style to which a regent should grow accustomed. It never occurred to him that there might have been a reason for Ajay’s abstinence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrangling Rangoon

Ajay didn't touch the crab rangoon when Pagan first brought him to the palace, and he never so much as took a bite when he returned and sat down to listen to Pagan's story instead of shooting him in the face (a fate which Pagan would be the first to admit he richly deserved - but then, so did everyone else in a position of power in Kyrat). If it was the last thing he did on the earth, Pagan was going to make damn certain that his stepson learned to enjoy fine cuisine in the style to which a regent should grow accustomed. 

It never occurred to him that there might have been a reason for Ajay’s abstinence.

The night he finally got Ajay to partake was on a Tuesday. It was just a regular Tuesday, no different from any other, but he’d lied (like he always lied, whether it was blatant or by omission) and told him it was Noore’s birthday. Despite failing to see the logic in celebrating a dead person’s birth, Ajay didn’t argue and rolled with it. He had learned not to look for logic in Pagan’s actions after the man had inexplicably turned his helicopter around and come back to the palace, all because Ajay had shouted “What kind of asshole drops a kingdom on someone and doesn’t stick around to teach them how to rule it?!” after him.

Meanwhile, Pagan had learned that Ajay would do anything requested of him, if asked with genuine pleading and (occasionally) a mild guilt trip. The boy had almost destroyed an entire country at the behest of the Golden Path because Sabal had nailed this formula on Day 1 – and Pagan was not to be outdone by a terrorist with a wreck of a haircut who was nowhere near as good-looking as the King of Kyrat. So, “Just a _bite_ , dear boy, after all this is the least we can do for her since her body was consumed by wild animals,” and Ajay put a crab rangoon in his mouth.

He chewed, he swallowed, and Pagan was halfway out of his chair in anticipation. “Well? Were the past months of struggle and turmoil and emotional distress not worth it for a single mouthful of that crispy, chewy _Nirvana_?”

Ajay took a swig of water and laughed. Failing to catch the uncomfortable edge to the sound, Pagan gestured broadly at his plate. “Well, don’t just sit there. It’s all yours! I eat it every day if I like. Fill yourself to the brim. Pleasure your palate. God knows it needs pleasuring, after whatever canned and molding swill you’ve been surviving on with the terrorists.”

The younger man shook his head, even going so far as to push his plate away. The air of nervous uncertainty that he always maintained around Pagan (an air the regent was desperate to dispel, to replace with one of confidence and trust) hardened slightly with an edge of determined refusal. “No. That’s alright.”

Pagan’s brow furrowed – something he generally attempted to avoid, since it had cost a small fortune to get any semblance of furrows removed from his brow in the first place. “Ajay, darling – don’t tell me you have an eating disorder? No, that’s not it,” he dismissed immediately, rising from his chair with a sharp wave of his hand. “You move around far too much for that. If that was the case, you’d have passed out in the wilderness and eaten by honey badgers long before you got here. What is it, then? A picky eater? Do you have a particular distaste for shellfish?”

Ajay looked mortified. “No,” he said, his voice very small, and Pagan found himself loathing the way the boy cringed before him. After all, he knew Ajay was perfectly capable of and willing to assert himself – they’d only just replaced the door he had kicked down. “I’m sorry. I can – I’ll eat some more.”

“Good food ceases to be good if you must force yourself to consume it. Don’t ruin the experience, just tell me what’s wrong.” Pagan realized he had come quite close to Ajay, that he was looming over him in his manic hot pink majesty, and promptly dropped into a crouch by his chair. “You only had to eat things you didn’t like while living as a commoner in America and during the time you were being used as a terrorist tool. Here, you need only say the word and I’ll get you whatever the hell your heart desires. Speaking of hearts, have you ever had a tiger’s? They’re delicious, I’ll tell you that. Difficult to acquire, though. Or would you prefer American cuisine? Are you craving greasy, patriotic junk food? It will take a while, but I can have an entire McDonald’s brought and installed in the palace. Just say the word – ”

He broke off as Ajay abruptly stood up, shoving his chair back with a force that sent it toppling over. Rising to his own feet, Pagan noticed that the younger man was gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles had gone white, and that he was shaking all over with small but constant tremors.

“It’s – i-it’s – not that,” he bit out through clenched teeth, a muscle spasming in his impeccably defined jaw. With increasing alarm, Pagan noticed the cold sweat standing on Ajay’s skin. “I’m – I’m s-sorry, I really w-w-wanted to enjoy it. It’s j-just – I’m – allergic.”

Pagan’s eyebrows rose further than he’d thought possible. “You’re – you’re _allergic_? To _shellfish_?” At Ajay’s small nod, Pagan slammed his fist down on the dining room table, causing the brunette to startle severely. “Why the _hell_ did you eat any of it then?! What were you _thinking_?”

“I thought one b-bite wouldn’t hurt,” Ajay stammered. His gaze was beginning to wander, and so were his hands as he patted at his chest and hips. “I… usually I t-take p-pills… just in case… keep ‘em in my jacket.” He frowned, and Pagan whirled.

“GARY!” His aide, never far from his side, materialized in the nearest doorway. “Ajay’s jacket. Find it. Bring it. _Now_.” Gary disappeared, and Pagan turned back to his prodigal stepson just in time to see his legs give out from under him. Rather than fall backwards onto his overturned chair, which was what Pagan initially feared would happen as he saw him fall, Ajay did a step worse and pitched forward, his head slamming into the corner of the table before he crumpled to the floor.

“ _Shit_!” Pagan was by Ajay’s side without even realizing he’d moved, yanking down the tablecloth and half the dishes on the table with it in order to staunch the flow of blood pouring from Ajay’s temple. “Shit shit _shit_. Ajay! Ajay, can you hear me? You have survived terrorists and the Himalayas and _honey badgers_ , you _cannot_ be taken out by a plate of seafood. I won’t stand for it.”

Pagan’s voice trailed off as he stared at the boy. Unconscious and with his necessary bodily fluids soaking the crisp white tablecloth, it could not be said that Ajay was in good condition. But there was something else. Pagan had seen his share of dead bodies – created a significant number of them – and there was a way they laid too still, a pallor to their skin and a stiffness to their limbs. Like marionettes, like one of Paul’s “party guests,” like someone who _wasn’t breathing_.

“Ah,” Pagan said blankly. His hand fell from Ajay’s temple. He supposed it should have been obvious. The palace was too big, there was no way Gary would have gotten back with the medication in time. CPR wasn’t an option – he was the King of Kyrat, and you didn’t need a first aid certification to go with that job. Of course, there was no way he could make Ajay breathe any _less_ , but still. Pagan was many things, but ultimately he was a man who knew when he was defeated.

He gasped a little sharply as his heart stuttered in his chest, and operating more on autopilot than anything else, he reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a syringe. Uncapping it, he moved it toward his arm, then stopped. His gaze rested contemplatively on the tip of the needle, then drifted past to Ajay’s body.

“What the hell,” he murmured; then he lunged forward and slammed the needle into Ajay’s chest, plunging the syringe down with what was perhaps an unnecessary amount of force. Then he fell back onto the floor, watching with the intensity of a cornered dog.

Five seconds passed. Then Ajay lunged up, scrambling to his feet and bolting forward before making solid contact with the table. Catching himself on his arms, he spun around, panting and half-collapsed against the piece of furniture as he looked around the room with wild eyes. When his gaze finally landed on Pagan, he yelled,

“You’re – I’m – what the hell happened to the tablecloth?!”

“You bled on it,” Pagan responded mildly. “After you poisoned yourself, of course, but before you died.”

“I – wh-what?” Ajay managed before his legs gave out on him a second time; this time, however, he was able to lower himself slowly to the floor, sitting amongst the wreckage of the rest of their meal. “Could you… back that up?”

“You stopped breathing,” Pagan reiterated. “I almost had a heart attack, you know. Fortunately my doctor gave me straight adrenaline, said I’m to inject it if I feel anything. But in the heat of the moment, I figured I’d had a good run here on Kyra’s green earth, or whatever god it is those Golden Path assholes have been telling you to worship.” He shrugged, a practiced gesture designed to aggravate and incite irritation. “I figured 20 CCs of adrenaline straight to your heart would either save you or kill you, and the odds seemed to be in my favor since you were already dead.”

A trail of blood made its way down the side of Ajay’s face and ran down the line of one of his impeccable cheekbones towards his mouth. The boy reached up to wipe it away, apparently not realizing what it was, and ended up smearing blood all over his face. Combined with his pale, drained complexion and the way his pupils were blown out, making his already dark eyes completely black, he resembled some manner of unearthly ancient war god – or a very prime specimen of a sacrifice to one.

“Hell,” Ajay managed weakly, “and here I’ve just been drinking coffee all my life.”

Pagan laughed at that; threw back his head and genuinely laughed, until he couldn't breathe and there were tears in his eyes and if not all of them were a result of his good humor he was not going to point it out. “Ajay, my dear boy! Ah, here comes Gary with your pills. Thank you for taking your sweet damn time, Gary. You’re fortunate I’m in a good mood right now. Here.” He uncapped the proffered bottle, poured the entire thing into his hand, offered them to Ajay. “Take all of these. Maybe it will wipe your allergy from your system.”

“Or maybe I’ll overdose and we’ll be back to square one,” Ajay mumbled. The immediate effects of the adrenaline were wearing off, and his injury and near-death experience (too near) were taking their toll. Standing up, he made his shaky way over to Pagan and held out his hand. “Why’re you still on the floor? Here.”

Pagan took his hand, but rather than allow himself to be pulled up, he wrapped all ten of his fingers around it and simply held. After a moment, he looked up, locking Ajay’s blown-out gaze with his own intensively serious one.

“Ajay Ghale,” he stated. “When Ishwari left, it broke my mind. When she died, it broke my heart. I thought I had nothing left to break. I thought I was as ruined as a human could possibly be.”

Ajay frowned immediately at that, like Pagan knew he would. “You’re not – ”

“Shut the hell up. I’m not done. Respect your elders.” Ajay stopped talking, but from his expression it was clear that he was more startled than anything. “You asked me to stay, and I stayed. Ask me to jump, and I will buy a trampoline. Ask me to blow up the moon – it’s gone. But do _not_ ,” he stated fiercely, abruptly tightening his grip on Ajay’s hand, “ask me to watch you die. Because I just did, and if I ever have to do it again, I won’t have anyone to stop me.”

Ajay stared at him, dark eyes full of concern. “From – from what? What are you gonna do?”

Pagan grinned, and it was as unhinged as always but with an edge of something else. He knew it was desperation; he also knew Ajay couldn't tell. “Probably nuke Kyrat from orbit. It’s an idea I’ve toyed with before.”

Ajay snorted, and Pagan allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “What the hell, Pagan? You don’t even have nukes.” The concerned expression returned, sharp and sudden. “Do you?”

Pagan beamed and slung an arm over his shoulder. “There are many perks to being the head of an independent monarchy, dear boy. Allow me to fill you in. Oh, wait a moment. GARY! Find the cook and kill him.”

“Don’t kill the cook,” Ajay intervened immediately. “Leave the cook alone. Just – alert them to my allergy. It's okay.”

Pagan clicked his tongue in distaste. “Ajay, the only person I’ve killed today is you and that just doesn’t sit right with me. Someone else will have to die.”

“No. I’m the heir to the throne now and I’m fine with being the only person to die today. You can be fine with it too. If you can’t, go take a bath in elephant blood or something and calm down.”

“Yak’s blood, my darling boy, yaks. And it’s for _beauty_ , not relaxation. Though tell me, does elephant blood have soothing qualities? What have you heard?”

They moved deeper into the palace. Outside, the sun set on Noore’s not-birthday. Somewhere in the hills, a beautiful man with a bad haircut wondered what became of the man who was sent to kill the king and never reported back. And up in the heavens, a woman with a golden glow smiled and nodded her head.

“Well done, Pagan! Well done.”

Nearby, someone coughed. “Technically, it was his fau – _ow_!”

“Shut up, Mohan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Note: I am NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL PLEASE DON'T TRY ANY OF THIS AT HOME
> 
> Also I have never eaten crab rangoon, so I can't speak to its chewy crispiness myself. Feel free to correct me. And please leave a review if you feel so inclined!


End file.
